Kill the Boy
by LordCommader
Summary: Kill the Boy and let the Man live. Words Jon never thought would be literal. Yet here he is, in Essos and plotting to invade Westeros like his ancestors. Not the South or the North despite his benefactor's wishes. No, he didn't want to sit on the Iron Throne or rule any of the Seven Kingdoms. He wanted the Wall and what lay beyond. He needed the Wall.
1. Kill the boy

Disclaimer: I Do Not Own Game of Thrones.

* * *

 **Jon Snow**

 _"Winter is coming."_

The words of his father's house. Not his though. He was a bastard. A Snow, not a Stark. No crown, or kingdom, or army would change that. No matter what he achieved he would always be a Snow. He didn't have the right to claim the name Stark, or Targaryen if what Bran said was true. Not after he had failed so badly.

"You shouldn't blame yourself."

Snorting Jon looked at the only living Stark left in the world.

"If you're truly this three-eyed raven and know everything then you should know why I have every right to blame myself." He said and looked away from his crippled brother and back into his reflection staring back at him from the small pool before the Heart tree in the Godswoods of Winterfell.

Scowling he averted his gaze to the red canopy above him. He didn't want to see himself. Not now, when his bannermen were fighting for their lives outside of Winterfell and he was here away from the fight. He should be out there with the others. Fighting and if the gods willed it, dying alongside those who chose to follow him.

"You didn't bring the White Walkers south of the Wall, Jon. Nor did you create them. That fault lies with the Children of the forest and the Seven Kingdoms for letting the Nights Watch become what it was before you joined." Bran said and Jon wished he could believe him.

 _"I really do."_ But he couldn't. He was the one the realm had chosen to lead them through the second Long Night. Daenerys may have been named Queen but even she looked to him when the White Walkers and their army of the dead came through the wall. And now, months later, the Night king was knocking on the Gates of Winterfell with two dragons breathing blue flames.

Because _Jon Snow_ , bastard turned crow, turned wildling who became Lord commander then went on to be named king had failed in all of his duties.

"We have lost this battle," Bran stated blankly and bluntly. "But we have not lost the war."

"Bran," Jon sighed scrubbing a hand down his face. "There is nowhere left to go. Every man dying outside the walls right now will come back as a wight. We don't have enough men to fight the Night King's army and we don't even have a dragon to fight his. We've lost."

"No, we haven't. I see our victory."

"I thought you couldn't see the future?"

Bran shook his head and set a hand upon the Heart tree his fingertips brushing the bottom of the trees face. Jon was right, the three-eyed raven could see everything except the future for it was ever changing. "But I can see the past. And that is where our victory lies."

"I don't understand."

"You will." Bran held and hand out and Jon reached for it cautiously.

Bran was his brother and he loved him but he was still cautious of the magic his sibling wielded.

And he was right to for the second Bran's hand enclosed around his own his eyes rolled back into his head he heard more than felt the gasp leaving his body.

Then there was darkness. It was all around him, circling and suffocating him leaving no room to escape.

"Open your eyes, Jon." Bran's voice called and Jon's eyes opened.

It took him a second to get his bearings straight but when he did gasped again.

"Bran! Your standing!"

Bran smiled but shook his head. "That is the first thing you notice? Look around you."

Jon did and a third gasp tore through his throat.

 _"I'm standing in a house."_ It was a nice house too. Well furnished and decorations that looked like they cost more than a bit of coin decorated the walls. Gold vases set upon dark well-crafted tables holding flowers of a kind he had not seen in Westeros. Not that he had seen much of it between the North, beyond the wall and Dragon stone.

"You never liked any of this, did you, Jon?" Bran's smile dimmed but it didn't fade completely. "Even when you became King you didn't have servants or sleep in the Lords chambers in Winterfell. You were more at home skinning a dear in the stables then you were speaking to Lords of the North even when you were so good at it."

"I failed as King, Bran. I wasn't good at ruling."

"We wouldn't have lasted as long as we did if you were a terrible King. The realm was doomed before you became King in the North. That's what we are here to stop."

"Bran, I don't understand. How are we here? Where are we and where is the Godswood?" Jon asked seconds before a scream echoed throughout the house they were in.

Turning to where he thought the sound originated Jon saw a flight of stairs and frowned when a young boy with dirty blonde, nearly brown hair appeared at the top. He couldn't have been even five name days old so the look of absolute terror on the child's face made the blood in Jon's veins boil.

The last boy he had seen such a look of fear on was Rickon. _"Right before an arrow killed him."_

Starting forward intent on ending whatever was scaring the child as blonde hair became red and the silk cloths became furs Jon was stopped by a quick hand grabbing his shoulder.

"We can't interfere," Bran said as the boy slipped on the first step an went tumbling down landing at the bottom. At the top of the stairs, a man dressed in a black cloak looked down at the boy and the pool of blood around his head.

"Pity, I was looking forward to ending the Blackfyres, me'self." Then quick as he appeared he was gone leaving Jon to stare in shock. He had just witnessed another murder of a child.

Bran seemed to know where his thoughts were heading and spoke keeping the darker ones from reaching the light but his words only brought darker thoughts in their place.

"The fall didn't kill him, Jon. We are."

"I'm not killing a child, Bran," Jon said dryly believing the words to be a jest. Bran had been different since his return to Winterfell, but all the Stark children had changed. He still loved each of them with everything he had. No matter the blood on Arya's hands, or Sansa's plots to win the game for the Iron Throne. They were his sisters just as Bran was his brother and he saw the best in each of them.

 _"He wouldn't really kill a child."_

"Maester Aemon once told you to kill the boy and let the man live, Jon. This is that."

Jon's head shook his mind refusing to process what he was hearing. Bran, sweet little Bran who he had helped teach to shoot a bow was not asking him to help in the murder of a child.

"He is going to die anyway, Jon. Jaehaerys Blackfyre never wakes from this sleep. His mind is gone. And yours will take its place."

"The boy dies and the man lives," Jon repeated the words but he still wouldn't help in whatever it was Bran was doing. He may be a bastard but he was not Ramsay Snow. He didn't kill children.

"I know you don't want to do this Jon. It's not in your nature to be cruel, and that is why I'm not giving you a choice." Bran said as he kneeled, one hand still on Jon's shoulder and the other reaching out for the broken boy at their feet.

Jon opened his mouth to demand Bran stop except no words could come out in time. For as soon as Bran's hand touched young Jaehaerys back Jon's eyes' went white as his pupil's rolled back his vision going black.

"Forgive me, Jon. But the realm needs a king, not a prince."

* * *

XxX

 _"Bran!"_ Purple eyes shot open and Jon tried to sit up but two small hands on his shoulders held him down pushing him back into the soft bed underneath him.

"You should not try to move yet, Jaehaerys. You are still hurt."

Blinking trying to clear the film of fuzz covering the world Jon's lips lowered in a confuse frown. Why was he being called Jaehaerys? And why did whoever was speaking have and Essosi accent?

He got one answer when his vision cleared and he saw the woman bending over him. Dark of skin and wearing what he learned from Daenerys was a slave collar only legal in the cities of Essos.

"Who are you?" He demanded and his frown deepened when he heard how soft his voice was.

"Shhh," The strange woman hushed him gently and her clear blue eyes glistened with tears that rolled down two high cheekbones. "You mustn't speak right now. You're still weak and need rest, my Lord."

Unable to see over or behind the woman and the woman too occupied with him neither noticed the man entering the room.

"Stupid girl!"

Jon flinched as the woman went careening to the side and slammed into the floor. Where she once kneeled now stood a morbidly obese man with pig's eyes and fat cheeks. A huge white belly and a pair of heavy breasts that sag like sacks of suet covered with coarse yellow hair bounced in front of Jon's face as the man heaved in anger.

It was a disgusting visage but the man's actions disgusted Jon more. Not only did this man own a slave but he struck her as well.

"My young lord, I apologize for her words. She should know better than to assume to command a man such as yourself." The fat man said bowing his head.

Jon, his head aching with confusion sat up using shaking arms to push his small body up from so he was sitting on the bed. He was confused as to why he was so small but he pushed it aside for the moment still fuming at the treatment of the woman.

"Touch her again and I'll gut you." He growled glaring at the fat man whose eyes went wide and flinched back.

"O...of course young lord."

"Good, now...who are you?" Jon demanded of the man not letting up on his stare.

The fat man looked shocked and his beady eyes went to the woman on the ground.  
"What is this?" He demanded.

"He hit his head, my lord. The Maester said his memories may suffer."

 _"My head?"_ Jon didn't understand. He hadn't hit his head. Where was Bran?

Looking around he could not see his younger brother anywhere in the room. But as he looked his realized why the woman and the fat man looked strange. He wasn't in Winterfell or maybe even Westeros.

Like the room, he and Bran had stood in when the boy had fallen and Bran had suggested killing him this room looked much the same. Adorned with silk and gold instead of furs and wood.

But what most shocked him was the mirror hanging on the wall across from his bed and what lied within the glass. Where once dark gray nearly black eyes stared back at him, now a pair of equally striking purple eyes were watching him.

Watching as he reached up and set a small hand on a small head covered in not black curls but dirty blonde hair.

 _"Bran, what did you do to me?"_

* * *

 **Illyrio Mopatis**

Walking through the gardens of his home Illyrio nodded to the servants who passed him by as he walked. When once they would have shied away and attempted to make themselves as small as they could lest invoke his ire, now they nodded back and walked heads held higher. _"As if they were no longer slaves to him."_

They thought they were safe under the protection of the Lord of the house.

Oh yes, young Jaehaerys had changed much since the day his would-be assassin failed to kill him. Illyrio and any and all servants serving in his home could see that. Where once a nice cheerful young boy who didn't wish pain on anyone ran the halls now stood a sullen boy who glared at those that didn't follow his _'laws_ '.

Jaehaerys Blackfyre was living up to his bloodlines royal presence... and its ruthlessness. Even though he was a guest in his house Illyrio didn't deny the boy justice when he called for it. He needed the child after all. Jaehaerys would be the tool which won him all the riches in Westeros.

 _"If the boy wants to imprison anyone who hits a slave?"_ Well, a sly grin appeared underneath an oiled yellow forked beard. The other lesser merchants he allowed to stay with him struck their _'servants'_ in front of audiences. Made them believe themselves powerful. Being able to do what they did in the broad light of day with no consequence.

Even now some had not learned to start striking when night had fallen and there were no prying eyes to report to the 'young lord'. The other merchants didn't see how things were changing and it was a wonderful thing. Some of those men he owed money to but if Jaehaerys kept his sense of justice by the time he became Master of Coin in Westeros he would be free of all debts.

And he would be Master of Coin, richest man in Westeros and Essos. It was a certain now that Jaehaerys had come into his name. Where once the boy shunned his lessons both in the training yard with a sword and in the Maester chambers where he learned of the lands he would one day rule, in the days after his near death experience he was in the library and courtyard before his teachers. Training and studying harder than he ever had. And it showed.

Besting the boy he hired to spar against him and reciting answers to questions the Maester had yet to teach him.

 _"Late night reading."_ Was the answer anyone received when questioning the boy on how he knew such things.

Halting his journey through the gardens Illyrio looked out at the sea between him and his goal. Soon he would be on a boat with a thousand more behind him sailing to conquer Westeros just as Aegon had done three hundred years ago.

* * *

 **Jon Snow II**

 _"Two years."_ That was how long he had.

Bent over a history book he had taken from one of Illyrio's libraries' Jon traced a finger down the words written on the last page. Through the whole thing, there was nothing about the Tourney of Harrenhal, Roberts Rebellion or the fall of the Targaryens. At first, he thought it was because he was in Essos and maybe they just didn't know that Westeros had changed but then he remembered Daenerys was from Essos and she ruled the Free cities so she must have told someone.

She had even spoken of Illyrio, the fat merchant who housed her and her brother in a successful attempt to gain Visery's favor. Yet looked startled when he asked if he knew anyone named Daenerys. Of course, the merchant could have been lying to him, which was the most obvious conclusion, except everyone believed it was 281 AC.

Two years before Prince Rhaegar and Lyanna Starks deaths as well as the birth of Jon Snow and Roberts ascension to the crown.

 _"And so much more."_

Year 282 AC was when the Seven Kingdoms began to implode.

"Jaehaerys?"

 _"Gods that name."_ Jon squeezed his eyes shut before looking up from the book he was reading and saw a sweaty Illyrio standing before him heaving and puffing. _"No doubt just back from another one of his walks."_

"Can I help you, Illyrio?"

"A servant has come forward, my lord. Accusing a merchant I gifted a room to of harassing her." Illyrio lowered his head and spoke with a false sadness that Jon hated. He knew everything the man did was a mummers farce. Nothing but lies because he believed Jon would one day rise up as the Blackfyres of did and win the Iron Throne.

 _"No, not Jon. Jaehaerys."_ But the merchant's wishes would never come true. The boy Jaehaerys Blackfyre was dead and the man Jon Snow lived. _"And I am never going to sit on that godforsaken throne."_

Not after it had taken so much from him. Caused so much pain to the ones he loved. No, he was never going to sit on the Iron Throne, not if he could help it.

"Jaehaerys?" Illyrio called again and Jon wanted to scream at the man. To shout and rage that his name was Jon and he was not a Blackfyre. That he was a Stark. But he wasn't. Not anymore.

"How did he harass her?" Jon asked pushing his thoughts on the Iron Throne away for the moment. He didn't have time to think such things when he was so busy running Illyrio's house. Another plot by the merchant. Give him a taste of power to not only help him learn to rule but also be grateful in the future.

But he didn't want the power, or the silk clothing and servants. He wanted the cold winds of the North against his face and furs from animals he hunted.

"He tried to...force himself upon her, my lord. Luckily other servants were nearby and stopped it before it could go too far."

"Rape." Jon spat disgusted. "Where is he now?"

"In the dungeons, my lord."

"Bring him into the courtyard. And get me a sword sharp enough to cut bone." Jon ordered closing his book. "The punishment for his crime will be death."

Illyrio if surprised didn't show it and Jon turned away his silk red cloak billowing behind him as he walked from his room heading for the courtyard. This wouldn't be his first execution, watching or dealing the killing blow but he still sent a prayer to the old gods. There were no Weirwood trees in Essos so he wouldn't be able to pray in a Godswood when the deed was done like had done in Winterfell.

"My Lord,"

Reaching the courtyard Jon didn't blink at the group gathered around the red cobblestone area. Servants were always happy to see their tormentor face justice. Usually flogging for striking a servant but this time it would be different.

And from the hushed whispers, he could hear coming from the crowd, everyone knew a man was going to die today.

Nodding to the cell guard bowing before him Jon took the sword being offered and strode into the center of the courtyard where a block of stone his waist-high waited for him.

Moments later Illyrio entered the yard trailed by two more cell guards dragging a sniveling, smelling sack of a man that left a trail of...Jon wrinkled his nose as did others. This was a man who wasn't going to die bravely.

As the man was forced to a kneel and bent of the stone Jon held the bastard sword he had been giving in his hands the tip just touching the stone at his feet.

"I, Jaehaerys Blackfyre, first of my name sentence you to die. If you have any last words I will hear them now."

"P..p..please, my lord, mercy." The man begged crying fat tears as yellow liquid began to pool around his knees.

Jon's resolve never wavered as he hefted his sword above his head and brought it down. There would be no mercy from him.

Sharpened steel sliced through flesh and bone easily giving the man a quick death.

As the head rolled Jon turned away and walked from the courtyard sword still in hand leaving all others in the courtyard to stare after their young lord. A boy of five name-days who had just executed a man and didn't shed a single tear.

It would be the talk of Pentos for a year before the city gained something knew to whisper about.

* * *

 **Another Jon Snow time travel Fic.**

 **I know, I know...this makes three. But it's not my fault. Time travel fics are awesome and I like exploring the what if's. This one is a little different than the** _'Long Night'_ **, and** _'Bastard of Winterfell'_ **which have not been abandoned. Been a little busy but I'm back now and will be updating weekly if not sooner.**

 **I hope you guys like this story as much as my other ones! Let me know what you think in the reviews!**

 **P.S. Bran used his three-eyed raven powers to bring Jon back in time with him and then forced Jon to Warg into Jaehaerys. Don't think I need to explain what happened but just in case ;)**

 **Thanks for reading!**


	2. Arming an army pt 1

**Disclaimer: I Do Not Own Game of Thrones**

* * *

 **Ned Stark**

"Ned how can you let this stand! Your the heir to Winterfell, do something!"

"You think I haven't already tried?" Eddard Stark, second son of Rickard Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North. And now _he_ was heir to Winterfell. _"Because the mad king Aerys murdered my brother."_

In Lord Starks chambers the two brothers in everything except blood stood side by side waiting for Ned's father, Lord Stark to arrive. Robert's face was flushed red and his eyes blazed with anger glaring at anything in sight.

Ned understood his friend's anger. Lyanna was his sister and he loved her but there was nothing Robert, he or his father could do. Prince Rhaegar had taken Lyanna to be his bride. Maybe if it was concubine his father Rickard wouldn't have let it stand but Rhaegar had sent Ravens to every house in the Seven Kingdoms carrying copies of his marriage certificate.

Lyanna Stark was now Lyanna Targaryen and she was carrying Rhaegar's son. Trueborn as they had been married in secret months ago.

"If Rhaegar was still a prince my father might have been persuaded to speak against their marriage, but with Aerys dead the Prince is now king. And no lord would deny the king their daughters hand."

"She was my betrothed, Ned. My beloved."

"I know, Robert. I know. But there is nothing we can do. Lyanna will stay married to Rhaegar and Tywin Lannister has given you his daughters hand if you accept his offer."

That only enraged his friend further and Ned was forced to take a step back as Roberts mace like arms swung through the air searching for something, anything to hit.

"How can you speak of my marrying another woman so soon after Lyanna was stolen from me? She was the love of my life," Roberts energy drained and the man seemed to deflate. "I loved her with everything I had, Ned. What am I supposed to do know?"

"Your duty as Lord of Storms End," Ned said setting a hand on his friend's shoulder. "Just as I will do my duty as heir to Winterfell and marry Catelyn."

Robert snorted at that and a small grin sprouted on the man's face. "Marrying a woman who loves your brother? You just might have drawn the shorter stick, Ned."

Ned shook his head in mirth and relief. Robert was already joking, his friend would be alright.

* * *

 **Illyrio Mopatis**

He was losing control. The boy was becoming too much of a problem.

Illyrio knew this though, had known it for months. Ever since Jaehaerys had a meeting with a man he met in the dungeons and two months later got a letter explaining that a man had paid part of his debt.

He didn't know who this _'man'_ was or what debt he owed Jaehaerys but he did know the timing corresponded with the death of the Mad King Aerys.

The king had supposedly died of natural causes or so the Maesters in Westeros believed and had believed until he sent a little bird flying to Varys. It was a betrayal, yes, but he needed to give Jaehaerys proper motivation to take the Iron Throne. The boy while studious in his studies and training always turned his back to any conversation brought up around taking the Iron Throne.

But with half of Westeros calling for his head for killing their king and the other half rallying behind the man who rid them of the mad king, the boy would have all the motivation he needed to Conquer Westeros.

Watching the boy from his balcony overlooking the courtyard he hid a grin behind his sleeves as the hired _'trainer'_ swung his sword faster and aimed for fatal areas. Jaehaerys acted accordingly and ended the man's life stabbing the bastard sword _'Blackfyre'_ into the man's chest.

 _"As suspected."_ He had made sure to hire a man that while good with steel would not be able to best Jaehaerys. He didn't want the boy dead after all, the assassin's purpose was to let Jaehaerys know that his enemies knew he was coming for their Iron Throne and he needed to begin planning now. Years in advance if he wished to conquer Westeros.

* * *

 **Jon Snow**

 _"Does he believe I would fall for this farce?"_ Jon wiped the assailant's blood from his sword.

Behind him overlooking the courtyard that acted as his training ground, Jon knew that Illyrio was watching him from the balcony. He was sure if he turned around he would see a mask of concern on the merchant's face.

Illyrio might believe he was the one pulling the strings, manipulating _Jaehaerys_ to one day gift him all the riches of Westeros, but _Jon Snow_ was playing a game of his own. He despised games and machinations but as always he did not do what he wanted but what others needed of him. To save the Seven Kingdoms from falling to the White Walkers he had to play a game. It wasn't the Game of Thrones but a game none the less and he hated every second of it.

But he was winning.

Jaehaerys was the man servants looked and whispered to when no one was looking. Singing rumors and truths in his ears. The other masters and merchants beat and suppressed their slaves, Jaehaerys Blackfyre didn't have slaves. He had servants who he paid for their services and treated them right.

He hadn't done it to curry the favor of those working in his home. It was how he was raised in Winterfell. Ned Stark didn't stand for his children to raise a hand against those who made their lives easier. But he would not deny that being held in such high regard by those around him worked in his favor. Nearly every word spoken within the Walls of the home were repeated to him. He knew everything that went on and as a result, knew that Illyrio's was plotting against him. Or more accurately plotting for him.

Planning the way his life would go. All the way up until he was sitting on the Iron Throne and handing every coin in Westeros to the Magister.

 _"That's not my plan."_ Jon handed his sword off to one of the servants waiting at the door to the manse. Illyrio might want to be Master of Coin but he had no dreams of becoming King and sitting on the Iron Throne. That had never been his desire. Not when he learned of his heritage and not now. Let other fools fight for an uncomfortable chair, he had bigger things to worry about.

Monsters were moving in the North and the Wall had to be ready.

"Jon, are alright, my lord?"

Looking up as Illyrio walked towards him Jon had to fight to keep his nose from turning up at the stench of the man. Even with all the expensive perfumes, Illyrio bathed himself in the merchant still smelt like a kennel.

"He wasn't a threat, Illyrio. Be more careful in how you choose my trainers from now on." Jon said as he strode past his benefactor.

It was rude of him and back in Winterfell, his father would have scolded him for such behavior but Ned Stark was the odd man out when compared to other Lords. Most didn't have the respect the Starks did for those who worked for them. They held themselves to a higher standard to the common folk and didn't see why they should reduce themselves to respect someone they saw as below them.

* * *

 **Rhaegar Targaryen**

"Your Grace, this man murdered your father. You can not allow this treasonous act to go unpunished."

Seated on the Iron Throne, Prince, now King, Rhaegar Targaryen stared at the bald eunuch standing in front of his throne.

Varys, the Master of Whisperers.

Rhaegar didn't like the man. The secrets he held could be withheld and or used for the man's own gain and no one would be the wiser because only Varys and his loyal birds knew such secrets. It was a dangerous power to give one man.

"Do you have proof that this, Jaehaerys Blackfyre was the one to order my father be assassinated?" Rhaegar asked and he watched as Varys tensed no doubt having never had his words questioned.

"My little birds in Essos tell me-"

"Rumors. And that is all." Rhaegar interrupted. "Where is the proof that a Blackfyre is still living? Why was this not told to me or my father years ago? Having such knowledge could have saved his life. _If_ this, _Jaehaerys_ is real and _if_ he was the one responsible for my father's death. Which the Maester announced as natural."

Not that he believed that. His father was old, yes, but to die right when the Seven Kingdoms were on the edge of war? No, it was too suspicious. But King Aerys had made enough enemies to kill him a hundred times over. Who was to say the King's death was the work of a Blackfyre halfway across the world?

"Your grace, if I may-"

"No," Rhaegar held a hand up silencing the Spider. "I will hear no more on the matter until you have proof this Blackfyre orchestrated the death of my father."

Varys nodded and bowed at the waist before turning to leave the throne room.

"And Varys, I do not want this to spread," Rhaegar ordered but Varys shook his head.

"It already has my Lord. Merchants in Essos told Westerosi traders who brought the rumors across the narrow sea. I can't stop the _rumors_ now, your grace."

* * *

 **Ned Stark II**

"Eddard," Rickard Stark voice rumbled through the crypts below Winterfell. "You're the heir to Winterfell."

Behind his father, Ned stood stoic and silent staring at the image of his brother etched into stone. He wanted to cry, but he couldn't. Winterfell would one day be his to lead and he could not show weakness. He was the heir to Winterfell, he had to be strong.

Rickard nodded to the statue of his first-born one last time and turned to Eddard. "Your wedding to Catelyn Tully will happen here, at Winterfell. King Rhaegar and Queen Lyanna will also be attending."

"I look forward to seeing her again," Ned said and he meant it. Some in the North may believe his sister to be the cause of their brother's death but he knew better. He had been beside Brandon when their father announced Lyanna had married Prince Rhaegar. That she had not been abducted but fled Winterfell because she fell in love.

Brandon would not accept the facts, however. His older brother had always been hot-blooded. Their father said he had the _'wolfs blood'_ in him just like Lyanna did.

Ned didn't know if it was worry that drove Brandon to rid to King's landing or jealousy. He wanted to believe that Brandon simply wanted to make sure his sister was happy and not being held against her will but at the same time, he knew Brandon was angry at being forced to marry Catelyn Tully. Maybe he couldn't stand that Lyanna had chosen her own husband when he could not choose his own wife and went to confront her.

 _"It doesn't bear thinking about."_ He followed his father out of the crypts. What was done was done. Brandon was gone.

"Eddard, this marriage is very important," Rickard said as the two Starks walked past the stone faces of those who came before them. "In the south, there are...disturbing rumors surfacing. A Blackfyre living in Essos. And responsible for the death of King Aerys."

"I've heard," Ned nodded. It had been the talk of Winter town. Traders from White harbor telling outlandish tales of the young Blackfyre. Executing a man before his sixth name-day, besting trained mercenaries in live steel spars and being responsible for the death of the Mad King.  
"Do you believe them, father?"

"Belief does not matter, Eddard. When you are Lord Stark, Warden of the North your personal feelings do not matter. Winterfell comes first. Even if I do not believe in the rumors I still must prepare for them. That is why you are marrying Catelyn Tully. We will need allies in the event that another Blackfyre tried to take the Iron Throne."

 _"He would have to kill, Lyanna and Aegon."_ Ned frowned. His sister whether he agreed with it or not was now apart of the Targaryen dynasty. If this Jaehaerys wanted the throne he would have to end Rhaegar's line of succession. He couldn't let his sister die.

* * *

 **Jon Snow II**

"Jaehaerys, are you sure this is wise?"

Outside Jaehaerys solar Illyrio was making one last attempt at dissuading his meal ticket from going through with his plan.

"This man, he is a smuggler. Can not be trusted."

"That remains to be seen, Illyrio. Now please, step aside. I do not wish to keep Davos waiting any longer." Jon said refusing to deviate from his course of action. If he wanted to win a war against an army of the undead he was going to need Dragon glass, and Valyrian steel. As much as he could get his hands on.

Dragonstone had an abundance of Dragon glass but mining for the glass there was out of the question. And it held no Valyrian steel, that he knew of. Maybe the Targaryens had a few stashes buried somewhere on the island but even if they did it was out of his reach.

 _"King Rhaegar would not let a Blackfyre set foot on the birthplace of the Targaryen dynasty."_ Jon pushed open the door to his solar and walked in shutting it behind him leaving Illyrio outside.

"M'Lord?"

"Davos," Jon nodded his head to the smuggler standing in front of his desk. He looked different than what he remembered. Brown hair took place of grey and the Onion Knight was a few pounds lighter than he was when Jon first met him at the Wall. Lean and weathered by the life he led.  
"I am Jaehaerys Blackfyre."

Davos bowed his head but didn't kneel. Jon didn't expect him to. He was no lord, despite what Illyrio said and even bowing his head was more than he had to do.

Walking around his desk Jon pulled open the large middle drawer and reached in pulling a bag twice the size of his hand out. Tossing it to Davos he sat down at the smuggler caught the jingling bag.

Untying the string around the bag Davos opened the bag and stared at the gold guts of the cloth.

"I will pay you double what is in that bag if you sail to the Smoking Sea."

"The smoking Sea?" Davos repeated hesitantly. He was a damn fine smuggler and sailor but even he was not quick to accept a job such as this. The Smoking Sea was a place that swallowed ships whole and never let them out. Legends of the stone men who could kill you with a touch kept even the bravest of fools away.

"Yes, I seek Dragon glass and Valyrian steel. I don't care if it's weapons, cups or furniture. If it's made of either of those materials bring it to Pentos and you will be paid well."

Davos held the bag of gold up. "Double this?"

"Yes," Jon nodded.

"I...will go," Davos answered and Jon smiled. He had expected nothing else.

Davos was searching for a better life for his family. Something more than raising his son to be a smuggler, a criminal, like himself. And Jon would give it to him. Davos was one of the best men he knew. A man of honor and duty despite living a life of crime. He was an ally and more importantly a friend that Jon wanted by his side.

Without Roberts Rebellion, Davos would never become the Onion Knight and Stannis would never give him a better life for his family. Jon would take Stannis place. Allying with Davos had been part of his plan since the beginning. And East Watch by the Sea would become the Onion Knights home. A castle by the sea. It was perfect for Davos.

"M'Lord?"

Smiling Jon grabbed a letter from his desk and held it out to Davos. "Present this at the docks and the three Galleys will be yours to command along with their crews."

Exchanging the gold for the letter Davos bowed his head again before leaving the room his brown tattered cloak flying behind him.

Watching the future knight depart Jon frowned as Illyrio came into the room wearing a false frown that did little to hide the anger he felt at losing three galleys and their crew to a fool's mission.

"Yes, Illyrio?" He asked when the merchant did nothing but stand in place and waste time that he could be using to iron out his plans for the future.

"Why is Valyrian steel so important to you, my lord? We have no blacksmiths capable of forging weapons from it."

 _"Liar."_ Jon thought but didn't vocalize it. He had heard the rumors about the blacksmiths in the Free City of Qohor. And he was sure Illyrio knew of them as well. But it was fine if the man did not want to share that knowledge with the _boy_ he was trying to manipulate.

"The last ship that sailed for kings landing. I sent a message with the captain to bring back a smith that I heard rumors about." Jon said and broke eye contact with his benefactor turning his attention to the papers on his desk. A clear dismissal.

Illyrio lips held together in a tight-lipped smile keeping all the words he wanted to throw at the arrogant little bastard inside. Bowing at his shoulders he walked backward out the door before standing straight again striding down the halls of his home.

He was going to beat a servant bloody tonight if for nothing else than to spite the young _lord_ who cared for them.

* * *

 **Hope you guys are liking the story. Let me know what you think so far in the reviews!**

 **Thanks for reading!**

 **P.S. Marvelmyra? Get out of my head! Lol! You got it in one.**


	3. Arming an Army pt 2

Disclaimer: I Do Not Own Game of Thrones

* * *

 **Jon Snow**

Sitting at his desk Jon stared at the maps he had purchased secretly from traders at the docks laid out in front of him. Not many maps of the Gift existed, no one had bothered to care enough to map the place. Not that he blamed them. It was a mostly empty place. Unused by the North because it belonged to the Night's Watch, and neglected by the Night's Watch because they lacked the proper numbers to maintain a single town. Much less, hundreds of miles of land.

So all he had to work with was a crude layout and the location of what little towns and villages were left occupied.

On the brighter side of things, the maps of the Wall were much more detailed. The Nights Watch while mostly a group of criminals with a few noble volunteers had created detailed maps of the Wall and the castles along it.

 _"Of course, the ones I needed are centuries old."_ Jon thought pushing aside the white maps and carefully moving the ripped and crumbling yellow maps beneath Watch had dropped castle after castle from the maps they drew until there was only three. East-Watch by the Sea, Castle Black, and the Shadow Tower.

Nineteen castles and only three were manned by a scarce group of men. Battle-hardened and some of the best fighters in the seven kingdoms after repelling the smaller wildling raids but they weren't enough to stop an army of Free folk, living or dead.

 _"Davos at East-Watch, Half-hand at the Shadow Tower, the old bear at remaining at Castle Black."_ Using his ink-quill Jon copied the names of each castle on a piece of parchment starting with East Watch at the top and West watch at the bottom. Besides the castles, he wrote the names of each person he was going to have commanding that particular castle. Free Folk, and Night's Watch brothers alike if they agreed to work with him.

 _"Gods willing without Ser Alliser causing trouble for me, Jeor will be more willing to work for me with the promise of more men and supplies."_ If not he would be forced to lock anyone who resisted in the cells. He didn't want to imprison his brothers but if he had to, he would. The Night King needed to be stopped.

"Lord Blackfyre?" The voice of Tobho Mott called outside the door as the Smith knocked.

Sliding the paper with the names of his future commanders on it into his desk Jon called out to the smith. "Come in, Motto."

The door opened and the aging Smith walked in a bundle of cloth held in his arms.

Standing from his seat Jon didn't let the excitement in his chest show outwardly but it was there. Growing like a wave as Tobho drew closer and unfurled the cloth revealing two swords. Each distinctly different from the steel of a regular sword.

One, a blade that was dark as night yet seemed to glow in the light. Dragonglass.

And the other covered in distinctive rippled patterns as if the metal was moving. Valyrian.

"You did it," Jon whispered taking the Dragonglass sword out of the smith's hands. He had heard that Tobho had been the Smith responsible for melting down Ice, the Stark's ancestral sword, but seeing was believing.

Slashing the sword through the air careful to keep the blade far from Tobho Jon frowned at how weightless the weapon was in his hands. Men would have to train to get used to the difference.

"Are the weapons satisfactory, my lord?" Tobho asked.

"Can you make more?" Jon answered with his own question. He had been told that Davos had returned with enough Dragonglass to fill a ship, but Valyrian steel had been found in less abundance.

Not that it surprised Jon. Valyrian steel had always been rare and expensive. If there were hordes of it hidden in the smoking sea he was sure even the wisest of men would risk the stone men to get their hands on it.

"Dragonglass, yes," Tobho nodded before looking down at the Valyrian sword in his hands. "This, however, I have enough for another seven swords."

"I see." Jon frowned setting the black blade down on his desk. That wouldn't do. He had hoped Davos would have found enough for at least nineteen weapons. One for each Commander on the wall.

He could always send him back to search for more but Illyrio had been pissy for days after he paid for the excursion since Jon was using the merchant's money. Alienating his benefactor would not bode well for his future plans.

 _"I still need him."_ Just until he was ready to set sail for Westeros. Lucky for him his plan coincided with Illyrio's, or so the merchant would believe. So he would play the mans game until the time was right. Being the dutiful puppet Illyrio wished to command. Just until he had what he needed to rebuild and man the wall.

By the old god's luck, he had spent enough nights drinking with Tyrion to know Daenerys story. Of how she became the ruler of Essos with an army large enough to invade Westeros. He had to change some things in the story such as leaving the Dothraki out. While good fighters it seemed he had executed more riders than the Night King's army of wights killed.

They were everything he feared the Free Folk would be when he let them South of the Wall. Uncivilized and unwilling to listen. But the Free Folk had seen what was coming, and under his rule with Tormund's help, they learned that the raiding and savage life they led stayed beyond the Wall. There was no room for such things south of the Wall. The few that tried had been executed by his hand and served as a lesson. The North wouldn't tolerate raiding or woman stealing. The Free folk could continue such traditions inside their own clans but people of the Seven Kingdoms were not to be involved unless they wished to be.

The Dothraki did not want to end their traditions of slaving and raping. They didn't know the harshness of life beyond the Wall. The Seven kingdoms to them were just another raid to them, not a haven. The screaming riders were useful in a fight but he couldn't overlook the problems they caused after the battle was over.

"My lord?"

Right. Tobho was still waiting for him to give his orders.

Shaking his head Jon handed the Dragonglass sword back to the smith. "Work with the Dragonglass for now. Swords, daggers, and arrows. Use it all."

"And the Valyrian steel?"

"Melt it down and store it. Now's not the time to use it." He ordered and Tobho nodded before leaving the room.

Alone again Jon went back to his desk and pulled his list out getting back to work. _"Edd at Deep Lake, Mance at Greyguard..."_

* * *

 **Varys**

Walking through the halls of the red keep the plump, bald, and effeminate eunuch moved quietly his soft slippers silencing his footsteps. The only way anyone would ever know he had passed through would be the lavender scent he left behind.

The Red Keep was emptier than it had been in nearly half a century. With King Rhaegar in the North attending the wedding of his new wife's brother. Along with him went the cooks and serving girls. The Kingsguard and the small council.

Varys didn't mind being left behind. He preferred it actually. The North was no place for a man from Essos. And it gave him time to think.

Illyrio, his friend from childhood was raising a Blackfyre that would one day invade Essos. Yet the King refused to heed his warning. Maelys was the last Blackfyre and Ser Barristan had slain him during the War of the Nine Penny Kings.

Yet his old friend had promised him that the boy he was housing was a Blackfyre. The grandson of Maelys himself. Varys didn't know who the boy's father or mother was, or if he held the same strength his grandfather was famous for. Jaehaerys was still young, that strength could show itself later in his life. But by then it would be too late. Rhaegar was a strong fighter, one of the best but even the King would fall at the feet of a man who could kill a horse with a single punch.

 _"Jaehaerys Blackfyre."_

The bastard would one day throw the Seven Kingdoms into chaos. The leader of a third Blackfyre rebellion. And with Robert Baratheon, the lord of the Stormlands hatred for King Rhaegar the bastard would have a foothold in Westeros. His ships could land at Storms End and Robert would welcome them with a feast instead of steel.

With Roberts allegiance won the Westerlands, the North, the Vale, and the Riverlands would turn against the crown as well. Ned Stark had grown up with Robert, they were brothers in everything but blood. The future Warden of the North would not fight his brother and with Ned being married to Catelyn Tully the Riverlands would not fight against the North. Neither would the Vale. Jon Arryn had raised the boys, he wouldn't go to war against them when he could wage a war _with_ them.

"That is more the half the Seven Kingdoms." Varys lips pressed together tightly as stopped his stride in the middle of the hall.

"The bastard sent ships to the smoking sea." A voice whispered from behind the stone. "He is stockpiling obsidian and Valyrian steel."

Varys frowned as he started walking once more. Valyrian steel? It was an extraordinary creation he would admit. Any sword that could cut through armor was dangerous in the hands of even an untrained farmer. An army of knights and experienced sell swords armed with weapons made from the fabled steel would cut across Westeros.

The master of whispers didn't worry of that news. The only thing in the ruins of Valyria was ash. Jaehaerys would never find enough of the ancient empires steel to arm an entire army. A handful of swords, at most, enough for his own Kingsguard and the best knights he could gather to serve him.

Even still, it was too risky to let him live.

He stopped again next to a Targaryen Banner. He did this for his king.

"Send a message to Pentos. I will make Illyrio Master of coin if he kills the boy." He whispered to the wall.

* * *

 **Illyrio Mopatis**

Striding through the halls of his home Illyrio smiled displaying his grotesque yellow teeth. Not that any of the servants walking with him would say anything. They still feared his wrath despite young Jaehaerys new laws forbidding striking the servants.

"Don't let that touch the floor." He snapped as the golden palanquin nearly touched the ground.

The servants stood straighter obeying the orders but too quickly causing the consignment of goods inside to shake.

Watching the eggs move as if they were hatching Illyrio stared at the servants. He would punish them later. They were just lucky the feathered pillows kept the eggs from knocking together and chipping.

 _"Their heads will roll if one of those eggs so much as gets a scratch."_ He thought viciously as he led the way towards Jaehaerys room.

He had paid too much for the relics for them to be broken by incompetent fools.

* * *

 **Jon Snow II**

"My Lord,"

Another knock came from the door and Jon shoved his now completed list into his desk. "Come in!"

The door opened and he had to bite his tongue from cursing as Illyrio walked in followed by two men carrying a miniature paladin.

 _"Dragon eggs."_ Jon's eyes grew wide as three eggs, Daenerys eggs were brought into the room. The Mother of Dragons had told him she received her children as wedding gifts from Illyrio who believed them to be fossilized. That no one thought they would hatch, no one even though they _could_ hatch, until they did.

"Jaehaery's," Illyrio bowed his head. "Dragon's eggs, from the Shadow Lands beyond Asshai. The eons have turned them to stone, yet still, they burn bright with beauty. A gift, for the only Targaryen worthy of them."

 _"The only Targaryen you could get your hands on,"_ Jon said to himself as he stood from his desk. The only thing Illyrio found him worthy of being was a puppet he could make dance.

Walking closer to the eggs he reached for them.

The first, Rhaegal's egg, was a deep green, with burnished bronze flecks. The second, Viserion, pale cream streaked with gold. And the last, holding Drogon, was black as the midnight sea, yet alive with scarlet ripples and swirls.

And they were huge. Compared to his child body the eggs were bigger than his head.

 _"I should change their names."_ He thought as he lifted Drogon's egg into his hands. It would the sensible thing to do. Viserion and Drogon were fine but Rhaegal was too similar to Rhaegar, they were practically the same name. People would question why he would name his dragon after the man he was supposed to _dethrone_.

But he wouldn't. These were supposed to be Daenery's dragons. He was stealing them from her. The least he could do was give them the names she chose.

"Jaehaerys?"

"Build a pyre in the courtyard. Large enough to fit all three eggs."

Illyrio looked aghast and angry. "You would burn my gifts?"

"No," Jon shook his head. "I'm going to hatch them."

Setting Drogons egg back onto the pillow next to his brothers he looked up at Illyrio who had yet to move.

"You can't order a pyre to be built from here," Jon said and the merchant startled.

"O...Of course." Walking from the Illyrio was halfway down the hall when Jon shouted to him.

"And bring three goats!" Jon had heard the story of how Daenery's dragons hatched from Jorah.

It was a terrible tale. Her husband dead and the witch responsible for his death tied to a stake in the middle of the pyre. Daenerys, lost in grief walked into the flames to die along with her husband and son. But she didn't. When the fire burned out, in the center of a field of ash Daenerys sat with naked, her clothes burned from her body clutching three baby dragons.

He was hoping the ritual to hatch them was the House words of the Targaryen's words. _'Fire and blood'._

And praying that animal blood would suffice for he was not going to burn anyone alive in hopes of hatching the dragons.

* * *

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 **Thanks for reading!**


	4. The War begins

Disclaimer: I Do Not Own Game of Thrones

* * *

 **Jon Snow**

 _"It's not working."_

Standing in the courtyard that was usually used for training Jon could feel the heat from the fire in his face burning just a few feet away from him. It as dying down, the flames growing smaller as the sun set behind it.

Hours it had burned, turning wood and the three goats to ash. The servants had continued to stoke the fire, adding wood when the pyre dwindled. The three goats had long died. Their bones gone, and blood boiled. Yet, still, not s single sign that the dragon eggs would hatch.

"Jaehaerys, dragons haven't been seen in the world in centuries." Illyrio looked nervous. His beady eyes darting between Jon and the fire.

"Bring me a knife," Jon ordered inadvertently confirming Illyrio's worries.

 _"The Targaryen madness."_ The merchant bit his tongue. He wouldn't give the order and lose his chance at all the riches in Westeros. "Jae-"

"A _Knife_." Jon held his hand out.

Fire and Blood. The words of House Targaryen. He had hoped animal blood would be enough, a life for a life. But maybe to hatch a dragon there needed to be Targaryen blood in the mix.

He couldn't see who handed it to him but the hilt of a dagger landed in his hands and he gripped it walking forward not taking his eyes of the fire. To those around him, he probably looked just as they imagined a Targaryen. Crazed as he tried hatch dragons egg.

It wasn't a look he wanted to have but he could see why they would think he was insane. Walking towards a fire, knife in hand hoping to bring back beasts that no one had seen in centuries.

 _"They don't know what I know."_ Pressing the knife's blade to his free hand's palm digging into his flesh and drawing blood. The only person in the world who had seen dragons was him. Knew they still existed and how, or mostly how to hatch them.

"Jaehaerys," Illyrio warned drawing back as Jon stuck his hand over the dwindling fire.

Blood dripped from Jon's hand through the fire landing on Drogon's egg. Moving around the fire he did the same to Viserion and Rhaegal's egg as well add his blood to the fire.

As his blood boiled on the eggs Jon stepped back. He waited with baited breath. This was his last hope to hatch dragons. One second passed...two...three...four...

...Drogon's egg cracked. Louder than Jon expected and he stepped back as the single crack spread until the once beautiful egg was covered in a spiderweb of deformities.

Whispers broke out around him but Jon paid them no heed. Viserion and Rhaegal's egg's started to crack as well. He had done it. The dragons, they were hatching.

From inside the fire, three screeches echoed out. Illyrio and the servants flinched but Jon moved forward. After hearing the powerful voices of full-grown dragons the small sounds coming from the fire did not scare him. They made him smile while others cowered.

* * *

 **Rhaegar Targaryen**

Sitting on his bed in the hottest chambers Lord Stark had available, Rhaegar had been adamant that no one would be booted from their home for his comfort. King or not. Still, as warm as Lyanna's old chambers were thanks to the hot springs Winterfell had been built over he was still dressed in a thick long sleeve nightshirt and pants. He was of the south and even the warmest room in the Stark's castle was freezing to him.

"You would be warmer if you lie down." A hand fell on his shoulder dragging him backward until his back was against the furs and his head on a feather-filled pillow.

Lyanna, his second wife, and the woman he considered the love of his life draped her body over his blanketing him with a warmth the fire in the hearth couldn't provide.

"Something is disturbing you." She said setting her head on his chest.

She knew him too well.

"Will you tell me?"

A small smile broke the sullen look Rhaegar was famous for. It had been happening more and more since Lyanna had run away with him. Some days it felt like he smiled more than he frowned. Lyanna would never know how much she meant to him. Even as King of Westeros there was nothing he could say or gift to her that would come close.

"Is it Dorne?"

"No, it's not Dorne," Rhaegar answered the question swiftly.

Lyanna while wild, having the _'wolfs blood'_ as her father called it was a caring woman first and foremost. Despite her love for him, she had been reluctant to marry.

 _"What of Elia?"_ She had asked when he proposed.

Their love was strong but Lyanna did not want to hurt his first wife and mother of his first two children.

 _"Our first fight."_ Running a hand through her brown hair his smile grew as he recalled the argument of how they would handle Elia. What a strange woman he married. She had the Seven Kingdoms being offered to her on a silver platter and she was worried about the woman who was married to the man she loved.

"Then what is keeping you up? We leave for Kings Landing on the morrow, you need to sleep."

"A Raven from Kings Landing arrive today. Eddard delivered it personally." Rhaegar had to force the words from his mouth reluctant to drag Lyanna into his family's mess.

They were married, yes, but that did not mean she had to suffer for the follies of his ancestors.

"And what did it say?" Lyanna sat up on one elbow looking down at Rhaegar her grey eyes captivating him as they did every time he saw her. "Rhaegar?"

"The Blackfyre in Pentos. Varys says the boy has hatched dragons. Three of them."

"When?"

Rhaegar sighed as a weight settled on his chest. and not the soft pressure of Lyanna but the suffocating pressure of being King. "Not long. The dragons are still hatchlings, still small."

"Still killable." Lyanna corrected not letting him get away with trying to ease the truth. "Is Varys still pushing for the boy's death?"

"Yes, and now he may be right to do so." Rhaegar glanced away from his wife's eyes and pretended to watch the flames dancing in the hearth. He was a good man, Lyanna always told him, a better man than his father was.

Now he could see why people would say such things. It was easy to be a good man when you weren't King. When the decisions you made didn't affect the entire realm.

"Are you going to send someone to Essos?"

"I don't know, Lyanna. I don't know."

* * *

 **Jon Snow II**

"Your grace...I...uh."

Sitting on the throne Illyrio had put in the feasting hall, Jon sat uncomfortably on the seat of gold and the most expensive clothes in Essos dyed black and red. The colors of his family's House. Stretching two feet above his had he sat directly underneath a three-headed dragon made of rubies. The chair itself was comfortable but he was not. He was never meant to sit on a throne, never wanted to. Not the Iron Throne, the Starks throne in Winterfell, nor a throne in Essos.

And yet he had found himself on both before his _'death'_. And now he was on the third throne. Not made of furs or swords but exotic jewels and gold mined by slaves.

He hated it. Hated Essos, and the day he left for the Wall couldn't come soon enough. As well as the day he took Illyrio's head.

The man was a schemer, like Varys and Petyr Baelish. Jon didn't trust men like that. They were always the ones who would smile as you passed then stick a knife in your back once behind you. Men such as that were more dangerous than any swordsman. Snakes hiding in the grass, out of sight until it was too late.

"Uh...I,"

"Speak up," Jon ordered, tired of the stuttering merchant wasting his time.

If the man hadn't been a right bastard he would have waited, but the merchant nearly the size of Illyrio, the only difference between the two merchants was the man's dark hair was as bad as Illyrio. Worse actually.

He looked to the side of the hall where three serving stood silently. Even with their heads bowed he could see their bruised eyes. The youngest couldn't have been but ten and four.

 _"And she had to put up with this piece of human filth."_ He glared at the merchant and at his feet Drogon, the biggest of his three dragons roared. Well, it was more of a squawk really but it frightened the abuser who jumped.

Jon pushed his foot out nudging the small dragon quiet. Anymore from him and the hall would stink of filth from filth.

It was strange seeing a grown man cower when confronted by a dragon. He had seen it a hundred times before. Even been the one cowering the first time he saw them on Dragonstone. But that was when they were grown. Large and capable of destroying armies. Now?

Now they were barely bigger than a cat. Still dangerous but hardly a threat to anything to other than hair and fingers.

"I deny any accusations against me, my lord." The merchant announced gaining some semblance of courage. "I would never strike my servants. I hold them very dear to me. Treat them as my own family I do. To have them bring such shame to me with these falsehoods. It hurts worse than any sword ever could."

"Gods.' Resisting the urge rub his forehead Jon motioned a hand towards the servants.

"Each of them has told the same story. You caught the youngest with your son who is the same age. Then beat her as you screamed at your son for dishonoring his family by not laying with a servant but loving one."

"Lies!"

"Lord Micaio, the word of a highly respected merchant against the word of servants usually end in the merchant's favor," Jon said and the merchant smiled. "But, you've been a right bastard your entire life. Or so your son says."

"My son?"

Jon nodded as four guards stormed into the room surrounding the merchant. "Your son's testimony gives credit to their story. You will face justice for your crimes. Take him to the cells."

"Wait! Wait! Illyrio, you can't do this."

Behind Jon's throne, Illyrio watched impassively as another of his partners was drug away to await his execution. Three merchants that had helped rule the trade in Pentos were now gone. Leaving him to rule it alone. There money in his coffers and their ships his to command as their daughters and sons fucked and drank away their family fortune.

Jaehareys new code of honor instead of a curse had been a blessing. He was losing rivals and gaining money faster than he ever had.

The only problem left with the boy was the fact he had made no moves to plan his invasion of Westeros.

"Illyrio," Jon said standing from his throne freezing a moment to let, Drogon and Viserion join Rhaegal on his shoulders.

As his dragons settled he walked down the five steps that kept his throne above the rest of the room and headed for the door leading to the garden. "Walk with me."

His dragons following at his heels Jon stepped out onto the balcony looking out at the Narrow Sea. His family was out there. Targaryen and Stark living better lives than they had before. Or at least he hoped they were. The death of Aerys Targaryen should have kept Roberts Rebellion from happening. He hadn't been able to stop Brandon Starks death but Rickard, his mother's father was alive. And so were the tens of thousands that would have died in the rebellion.

They were all saved because he had ordered the death of the Mad King. Something he couldn't bring himself to regret but he wasn't happy about it either.

 _"The man who passes the sentence should swing the sword."_ Yet here he was. A thousand leagues away sitting in a castle. Eating expensive foods and wearing expensive silks.

He hadn't killed the king honorably in battle. Or executed him for his crimes. He killed the Mad King with words and poison.

"Your throne is out there, Jaehaerys. Waiting for you to claim it." Illyrio stood beside him gazing out at the sea. "Rhaegar is said to be a soft ruler. Nothing like his father. The war for the Iron Throne should be quick and decisive."

"No, it won't be. I won't be setting foot in Westeros for years, but the war starts now."

Illyrio bowed one hand folded across his massive gut and the other hanging in the air. "I will gather the brightest minds in Essos and we can begin planning, my lord."

"I already have a plan," Jon smirked as Illyrio startled. "Aegon conquered the Seven Kingdoms from Dragonstone."

"And you will do the same." Illyrio guaranteed. "I have friends in the other cities. Thousands of boats and men will be at your command. The island will not stand against your assault."

"I'm not going to sail for Dragonstone." Jon snapped glaring at the merchant whose bloated face displayed his confusion. "This war won't be quick or decisive even with my dragons. We will need food for my army. Land for farmers to grow that food and a castle for us to retreat to and regroup should we be defeated in battle. Dragonstone is too close to Kings Landing and won't be able to supply enough food to keep my army alive."

"What is your plan, my lord?" Illyrio asked with genuine curiosity. It seemed he had been wrong in his assumption that Jaehaerys had no drive to conquer the Seven Kingdoms.

Jon turned his head staring towards the North. "We invade from the North. Take the Wall, rebuild the Nineteen castles along it and farm the gift. The Night's Watch doesn't number past a thousand. We will take the Commanders of, Castle Black, the Shadow Tower and Eastwatch-by-the-sea alive before giving the others a chance to surrender. Which they will. Most of them will be criminals who took the black to avoid life in a cell, losing a hand or execution. They won't risk their lives for a Kingdom that sentenced them to the end of the world."

Staring as Jon finished his speech Illyrio bowed again a wide true smile on his face. "That is an excellent plan, my lord."

* * *

 **Rhaegar Targaryen**

"A Kingsguard serves for life. The boy swore an oath, he can not return to Casterly Rock, your grace."

"I understand that Ser Arthur, but we will need the military might of the Westerlands in the years to come." Rhaegar set the letter from Casterly Rock down on the table in front of him.

He had expected Tywin to send a Raven sooner. Days after his father's death actually. But it never came. Weeks, the months passed and nothing. He hadn't forgotten the old Lion, no, Tywin was too dangerous a man to be forgotten.

 _"Tywin must have heard of the dragons."_

The Warden of the West saw his moment and he was seizing it. The lion knew the crown would need his army and gold if Jaehaerys invaded Westeros. And the price for that army and gold was an heir to Casterly Rock. His son Jaime Lannister.

 _"And a sworn member of my Kingsguard."_ Rhaegar sighed bringing a hand up to rub his nose. Releasing Jaime from his oath was wrong. Cruel even given the boy hadn't asked to leave.

"Do you think he will accept?" He asked the men gathered in the tent.

His Kingsguard. Minus one of course.

Lyanna had _requested_ to go riding, enjoy the last of the Northern air before they reached the Neck and headed south. Jaime had been tasked with her safety while she was away from camp.

Ser Gerold Hightower, Lord Commander and known as the _White Bull._ Prince Lewyn Martell. Ser Barristan _'the bold'_ Selmy. Ser Gwayne Gaunt. Ser Oswell Whent. Ser Jonothor Darry. Ser Harlan Grandison.

And Ser Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning. Deadliest of the Kingsguard. And most opposed to releasing Jaime from his vows.

"You are the King, your grace," Ser Gerold said from his left. "We are here to protect you, not judge you."

"Yes, but I am not asking your opinion as your King but as your friend."

"We are your friends, your grace. But as Ser Gerold said you are the King. You must do not what is best for you, us, or Jaime. The realm must always come first so long as you reign."

 _"He's right."_ Rhaegar closed his eyes leaning back in his chair. Ser Barristan speech wasn't just his opinion of how the King should act. It was his rebuttal for his actions with Lyanna.

The two of them nearly caused a war. Yes, his father's madness did little to help but it was the _'kidnapping'_ of Lyanna that caused her brother Brandon to ride for Kings landing and be murdered.

Rhaegar was sure if Rickard Stark had made it to the capital before Aerys died, or was murdered by Jaehaerys his father would have killed him as well.

"Ser Harlan, please go wait at the front of the camp. When the Queen and Ser Jaime return, bring him here." The King let out a breath as Ser Arthur stirred but remained quiet.

"He's going home."

* * *

 **Hope you guys are liking the story. Leave a review with what you think so far and pairing choice!**

 **Thanks for reading!**

 **Sami217: Yes there will be a large time skip. Two actually. The first is right now! Thanks for reviewing!**


	5. Interlude

Disclaimer: I Do Not Own Game Of Thrones

 **lightwalnut64: The point of Jon in Essos is him building an army to sail for Westeros. No, Jon would never fight against his birth mother and father. But everyone around him believes he is a Blackfyre who wants the Iron Throne. He is playing them to get the army he needs to stop the White Walkers from getting south of the Wall and laying waste to the Seven Kingdoms. That was Bran's plan when he forced Jon's mind into the Jaehaerys body because he knew what Jon would do.**

 **Why? Because Bran knows everything.**

 **P.S. Yes, I know that is not how the Three-eyed raven's powers work but this is fanfiction.**

 **Thanks for reviewing and glad you like the story!**

* * *

 **Jaime Lannister**

"That stunted fool! What does he think he is doing marrying a whore? He's a Lannister. The lowest of us, but he holds my name and he would sully it by taking a whore as his wife!"

 _"Tyrion you idiot."_ Jaime thought as his father raged around his chambers.

He had never seen their father so angry. Tywin Lannister was cold and calculating, never showing anything other than a blank face or an angry glare when disobeyed. Now he was red-faced and shouting. It was worrying, to say the least.

Jaime could guess what his father would do on occasion. Having been raised by the man he knew him better than anyone else but as the Lord of Casterly Rock raged, the heir didn't have a clue as to what was coming next. And that was not good.

Not for him. His father's ire was aimed at the second son of House Lannister. Not the first. But he loved his brother, and Tysha was a good girl. She didn't care that Tyrion was a dwarf half her size. She loved him and that was what was important.

 _"At least one Lannister will marry out of love."_ He thought angrily. Cersei was in the Stormlands married to a whoring drunk and he would be ordered to marry whoever his father chose.

At least Tyrion would be happy. Or as happy as his brother could be while their father was still alive.

"Jaime!"

"Yes, father?"

Tywin was no longer red in the face and if he wasn't mistaken there was the beginnings of a smirk on his fathers face.

"If Tyrion wants to marry a whore he can face the consequences."

"She's a crofters daughter, father. Not a whore. And she's hardly a threat. What Lord would let their daughter marry a dwarf anyway." It was a terrible thing to say about his brother but Tyrion had never shied from the truth about his condition. And the truth was he was stunted. Half the size of a normal man.

"Maybe not, but she will be." Tywin glared at his heir. "Go to your brother's cottage on the coast. I'm sure you know where it's at. Bring that whore back here when he is gone and take her to guard's barracks. She'll get a silver for each guard that takes her and gold for every Lannister. Let's see how much your brother loves his wife when he discovers she's just a whore I paid to pretend to love him."

Jaime stared at his father. _"What the fuck."_

"She's not going to fuck anyone that isn't Tyrion, father. She really does love him."

"I don't care that she loves him. And neither will the guards. They will follow their orders." Tywin sat at his desk and ended the conversation. "Now go."

* * *

 **Tyrion Lannister**

"Ahh!"

Pushing his wife behind him Tyrion stood as tall he could dagger in hand as his brother slaughtered four Lannister men. The men tried to fight back, they really did but it wasn't a fight. Even with the numbers on their side they couldn't do anything but die as his brother set upon them with his sword.

It was over in seconds. The guards, Tyrion didn't even know their names so they couldn't have been that good, fell one after another. Two with their throats cut and two with holes in their chest bleeding blood onto his floor. In front of his wife who was in tears and shaking terribly.

"Jaime, what in the seven hell's was that?" He asked as calmly as he could.

"Father found out you married a peasant and set me and the boys here to bring her to Casterly Rock," Jaime answered swiftly as he cut a piece of cloth from the dead guards and used it to wipe the blood from his sword.

"And you killed them because?"

Jaime looked at his wife and shook his head. _Not in front of her._

Tyrion nodded and turned around taking Tysha's hand in his. "Tysha, go to our chambers. Pack what you can."

Tysha gods bless her sucked in a shaky breath and tried to smile before fleeing the room.

As his wife vanished farther into the cottage out of sight the dwarf turned on his brother.

"Answer me now, brother. What is going on?"

"Father discovered you married a peasant. He was furious as you expected him to be. More-so even. He ordered me to come here and collect Tysha. He wanted me to her to the guard barracks in Casterly Rock. His plan was to make you believe she was a whore he paid to pretend to love you by letting all the guards fuck her. Against her will or not."

"And you didn't try to talk him out of it?" Tyrion asked his mismatched eyes going to the bodies on the floor. "That might have worked better than killing the guards sent with you. What are we supposed to say happened? Where is Tysha supposed to go?

She couldn't stay in the Westerlands. Not with his father trying to have her raped.

"There is a merchant ship waiting at the harbor in Feastfires. I've booked passage for us across the Narrow Sea. It's already stocked and I've put enough gold on it to last us two lifetimes." Jaime smirked. "Fathers insistence on waiting until you were gone from the house gave me the time I needed to get everything ready. And after waiting for days in the woods the boys here were getting antsy."

"So you tricked them into coming while I was here and then slaughtered them?" Tyrion was glad they were dead. The four men on the ground were guards of Casterly Rock. They would have four of the many to violate his wife.

Glaring at the corpses he spat on the ground next to them. "Cunts."

* * *

 **Elia Martell**

"Lyanna, you see it as well, do you not?"

Safely in her chambers, away from the little birds that listened to every word spoken in the Red Keep, Elia watched as her son Aegon and Lyanna's Jaehareys played together on the floor. They were good boys. Always laughing and willing to include Rhaenys and Daenerys even though they were girls. She herself had always wanted more children and the knowledge that she would never give bring another life into this world hurt. But Jaehaerys and Daenerys were hers as much as they were their mothers. Just as Aegon and Rhaenys were Lyanna's and Rhaealla's.

The only child of House Targaryen missing was Viserys. Who despite the love she and Lyanna showered the other children with wanted no part in playing _'happy family'_ as he called it.

"I do," Lyanna muttered softly beside her. "But he hasn't done anything but resent us. That's not a crime."

Elia nodded but Lyanna's words did little to assure her of her worries. Viserys proclaimed to anyone that would listen that he was one of the last dragons. That he wouldn't marry any other but Daenerys, his sister. She and Lyanna both knew Rhaegar would never let that happen. The practice of marrying brother and sister ended with his father and mother.

Daenerys would marry outside the family as would, Rhaenys, Aegon, and Jaehaerys. To who she didn't know. It was still to soon to think about such things. Her babies were still babies. Marriage for them was many years away.

But that was what had her and Lyanna worried. Would their kids grow up to believe the same as Viserys? That they should marry each other? Jaehaerys and Rhaenys? Aegon and Daenerys? Or the other way around? Jaehareys with Daenerys and Aegon with Rhaenys?

No, she and Lyanna would never let that happen. between the two of them, none of their children would grow to believe incest was their future. But Viserys?

Viserys would always be the outlier. Born and raised under the mad king he believed in the Targaryen customs and would not listen to reason. Not from his mother, her, Lyanna or even the King himself. The boy firmly believed that he would marry Daenerys and no one would stop him.

 _"There is nothing we can do, Elia. Rhaegar as already named him heir to Dragonstone."_ Elia thought. It was seen as kind of him to give his brother the island instead of Jaehaerys, his second born son.

* * *

 **Viserys Targaryen**

"I am the dragon. The Iron Throne is mine by right by blood." Viserys whispered the words that had become his mantra. His brother Rhaegar was a fool to try and name his half-breed the heir to the Iron Throne.

As if he would allow the Targaryen dynasty to fall so low.

 _"That idiots spawn aren't Targaryen."_ Neither was the boy that whore northern girl had pushed out.

He was the dragon. He was the rightful heir to the Iron. And he would kill anyone standing in his way.

"I am the dragon. The Iron Throne is mine by right of blood."

"My lord?" Swift knocking broke the silence of his chambers and Viserys snarled.

Who dared to interrupt the dragon?

"What?"

"We've arrived, my lord."

 _"Of course we have. The journey was supposed to be four days. We've been sailing for four days."_ Viserys glared at the closed door. He wouldn't open it. They didn't have the right to see the lair of the dragon.

No lion did.

"Tell me when we have docked."

"We have docked, my lord. Lord Tywin is waiting for you."

"Then why didn't you tell me we were nearing the harbor." Stomping towards the door Viserys ripped it open and backhanded the captain before the man even knew what was happening.  
"Do you want to wake the dragon! Do you!"

"No, he doesn't." A voice withered by age said and Viserys turned to shout at the man who had interrupted him.

He was the dragon. No one had the right to talk without his permission.

But he closed it when he saw who it was that had spoken.

"Lord Tywin." He greeted cordially pushing his rage at being interrupted down.

"Lord Viserys." Tywin nodded back but didn't kneel and Viserys grit his teeth.

 _"I am the rightful heir to the Iron Throne. He should be on the knees begging to fight for me."_ Viserys would have burned the ingrate alive right then and there but he needed the Westerlands. Needed its gold and the Lannister army if he was going to take the Iron Throne from the half-breeds.

"We have much to discuss, my lord. Come." Tywin turned and walked back out of the cabin of the ship leaving Viserys to gawk at his back. Stunned by the audacity of the man for giving him orders.

A lion did not order the dragon.

 _"When I am named king, he'll burn for that."_ He didn't care if the Lannister put him on the Iron Throne.

The good deeds didn't wipe out the bad. And ordering the dragon was a transgression that could not be overlooked.

* * *

 **This chapter and the next will be interludes. Chapters focusing on a few characters to show a little of what happened during the years I didn't write so after the time skip no ones confused. I'll have flashbacks as well to fill in the gaps so only this chapter and maybe the next will be the interlude.**

 **Thanks for reading!**

 **Leave a review with what you think so far and I'll see everyone next chapter!**


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